“It’s a good plan,” Raynor said dryly, “so long as they don’t fry you.”
Harnack might have replied, but the two men were inside the lobby by then, and being herded into the auditorium beyond. It was large enough to hold hundreds of people, so every member of the thirty-five-person platoon got a seat in the first row.
It took a few minutes to get everyone settled in, but once they were, Colonel Vanderspool appeared from the wings and marched to the center of the stage. Then, looking down at Tychus, he said, “Sergeant, is everyone accounted for?”
The officer was wearing a lip mic and his voice boomed over the theater’s sound system. Had Tychus known that Doc’s effort to humiliate Lieutenant Quigby would cause the officer to be transferred, thereby leaving him in charge of the platoon, he would have put a stop to the harassment. Because the last thing Tychus wanted was to be in charge of anything other than a large bank account. But Quigby was gone and there was a shortage of line officers, which meant he’d have to fill the slot until a replacement came in. So all he could do was look up at Vanderspool and say, “Yes, sir. All present, sir.”
“Excellent,” Vanderspool responded as a carefully crafted smile appeared on his handsome face. “I have some very good news for the STM platoon. After weeks of training, you have a mission! And not just any mission. This is the sort of outing we had in mind when those CMC-230 suits were issued to you.
“In fact, if this effort goes the way we hope it will, our goal is to use you and your new hardskins to help capture the Kel-Morian strategic resources repository in the city of Polk’s Pride. It’s a critical objective—one that we are certain will decide the outcome of the war on Turaxis II.” His smile broadened even more as he swept his gaze across the line of soldiers. “How would you like to be the Confederacy’s most celebrated war heroes?”
The reaction from the soldiers was glum in spite of Vanderspool’s enthusiastic pitch, and a few whispers were exchanged. “Ah, yes,” Vanderspool continued cheerfully. “Some of you may know that we have attempted to cross the Paddick River and attack the repository before. Unfortunately, we failed. But trust me—we will try again, and we will succeed. You have my word.
“But, before we get started with Polk’s Pride, let’s take a look at the immediate objective.” As the lights went down and a holo appeared on the stage, Vanderspool moved to one side.
“The image you’re looking at was captured by an orbiting battlecruiser,” Vanderspool explained. “The pictures they took were computer enhanced and combined to create the map you see on the screen.”
As Raynor studied the image, he saw what he took to be three hills, each crowned with a fortification. Between them, and surrounded by what appeared to be a plascrete barrier, was what looked like a military camp. Six long, narrow buildings could be seen side by side. Two more were set off from the others, and a command center with a comsat station was located next to several supply depots and a water tower. Access roads wound here and there, dotted with blister-shaped bunkers that bracketed all of the main entry points.
“What you’re looking at is a prisoner of war camp,” Vanderspool informed them gravely. “It’s called Kel-Morian Internment Camp-36, or KIC-36, and more than four hundred of our brave soldiers and pilots are being held there. And not just held, but tortured, and in some cases murdered. But there’s no need for me to describe what goes on inside the camp, because we are about to have the privilege of hearing about it firsthand from one of the few people to successfully escape, a young pilot who proves that anything is possible.” He stepped back and clapped for several seconds before extending a hand toward the approaching figure, a sympathetic smile on his face. The battalion offered a polite round of applause.
Aided by a cane and accompanied by a medic, a frail-looking figure shambled out to join Vanderspool. She looked like a skeleton over which parchmentlike skin had been stretched. “This is Captain Clair Hobarth,” Vanderspool said soberly. “Her dropship was shot down; she was captured and taken to KIC-36, where she was held for three months before she managed to escape. The two prisoners who tried to flee with her weren’t so lucky. I was opposed to her coming, but she insisted, because she regards the men and women she left behind as brothers and sisters. Captain Hobarth?”
Hobarth’s voice was hoarse, but thanks to the mic she was wearing, her words could be heard. “Good morning … thank you all for what you have already accomplished—and will accomplish on behalf of the prisoners of KIC-36.” She drew a slow, deep breath. “I’m not here to tell you a sob story about the months I spent there. I’m here to tell you how to attack the camp, kill the animals who run it, and rescue our people.”
Somebody started to clap, more fervently this time, and Raynor joined in. Here, after the attack on Fort Howe and the looting of the armory, was what he’d been waiting for: something he could believe in. “Thank you,” Hobarth said humbly, as she produced a laser pointer, and a red dot began to roam the 3-D image. Each item it passed grew larger and began to rotate, so that the audience could view it from various angles.
“By now you’ve noticed these hills.” she said. “They’re all about the same height and topped with missile turrets, defensive guns, and pop-up turrets. And, because there are three of them, anyone who tries to attack the camp will enter a crossfire.
“That’s bad,” Hobarth croaked, “but making the situation even worse is the fact that some of these weapons could be depressed to fire on the camp itself. And believe me, the camp’s overseer, the man we called ‘Brucker the Butcher,’ wouldn’t hesitate to do so.”
Hobarth paused at that point as if to let the information sink in before continuing the briefing. “So, if you’re going to rescue our people, you’ve got to neutralize the hilltop fortifications first… . And that’s where your special capabilities come into play.”
Hobarth paused at that point, as if to summon more energy, before continuing on. “Here’s how it’s going to work,” she continued. “Dropships will fly you over the site. You’ll jump, land on all three hills at the same time, and destroy the weapons installations there. At that point you will make your way downhill, engage the guards, and take control.”
Raynor watched the red dot draw a line around the camp. “Having blown holes in the charged shock wall, you’ll evacuate the POWs to the landing pad located here.” As the red dot came into contact with it, the 3-D image grew larger and began to rotate. “By that time other members of your battalion will have landed to provide you with support and a succession of dropships will arrive to evac the POWs. A squadron of Avengers will be on hand to keep the Kel-Morian Hellhounds off your backs. Oh, and one more thing… .” she added, with all the volume she could muster. “When you get back—the beer is on me!”
That announcement produced a very enthusiastic cheer, and Vanderspool smiled indulgently as he returned to center stage. “Thank you, Captain Hobarth… . That was an excellent presentation. And I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into— because the men and women of the 321st are very thirsty!”
The audience chuckled appreciatively as Hobarth raised a skeletal hand, smiled weakly, and plodded offstage.
“Okay,” Vanderspool said soberly, “that’s the overview. Obviously it will be necessary to solve a lot of tactical problems before you’ll be ready to carry out a mission of this complexity. And that’s what we’ll be working on over the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, remember this: Security is of the utmost importance. Surprise is a key element of the plan that Captain Hobarth described to you, and there are Kel-Morian sympathizers in the area. So don’t discuss the mission when you’re off duty. Not even with each other. Do you scan me?”